Page 99 of Snowed Inn

“I think I need to talk to him.”

Ellie nods, her expression soft. “Yeah. I think you do too.”

Chapter 37

All morning, the inn has been buzzing with the energy of New Year’s Day checkouts—guests dragging their luggage to the front desk, last-minute goodbyes being exchanged, and the smell of fresh pine wafting through the lobby. I’ve spent the last couple of hours helping El and Charlotte manage the chaos, handing out complimentary muffins and answering the same five questions on repeat.

Yes, we’ll see you again next year.

Yes, we’ll send you a digital receipt.

No, the snowstorm didn’t damage the orchard.

Yes, the wi-fi will be better next time.

No, we don’t know if Pumpkin the pug is single.

By eleven, things have slowed down enough for me to step away from the front desk.

When I finally see Jesse, he’s clearly showered and is frustratingly good-looking in a clean flannel and jeans, like last night didn’t completely turn my world upside down. Meanwhile, I’ve spent the last few hours avoiding him like it’s my part-time job, hiding behind checkout tasks and coffee orders, and pretending to be much more invested in Pumpkin’s sleeping positions than any human should be.

What’s Jesse doing here? It’s not cookie-delivery time.

He spots me across the lobby, and there’s a flicker of something in his eyes. He knows. He knows I ran out. He knows I’m avoiding him. And yet, he doesn’t call me out on it.

Instead, he steps up to the counter, his voice low. “Hey, can we talk for a sec?”

I swallow. “Hey,” I say, forcing what I hope is a casual smile. “Sure, of course.” Lies. All lies. Because in the time since I told Ellie I realized I need to talk to him, I have been completely gripped with panic. And now with him standing in front of me, reminding me of all the things I really like about him, I have no clue what I’m going to say.

He cocks his head slightly, watching me. “I was hoping we could have a minute before—”

“Before I leave for LA?” I finish for him, my stomach flipping. I told him yesterday on the ride back from Main Street that I was leaving today. I kinda have a feeling that’s why he showed up at my door last night. But the supremely hot sex did not change anything. I am still flying to Los Angeles today.

“Yeah.”

I glance around the lobby, where Charlotte and Ellie are expertly managing things, handing over fresh coffee and thanking the guests for their stay. They don’t need my help at all. But I am still committed to pretending they do.

“Um . . . yeah, sure, of course,” I say, nodding in a way that’s definitely more panic than poise.

He waits as I step out from behind the front desk, then gestures for me to go ahead of him. I do, and he falls into step just behind, his presence steady but unobtrusive. At the corner, he guides me with a quiet nod toward the small employee break room, which, mercifully, is empty.

I close my eyes. I have no idea how I’m going to get through the next five minutes. But I take a breath and turn to him. I need to say this before he says something I won’t be able to walk away from. I school my face into something neutral.

“Look, last night was . . . fine. But I’m leaving.”

It sounds worse than it did in my head. Harsher. But I don’t take it back.

His expression tightens. “Fine?” he echoes and I can already hear the hurt in his voice.

“Good,” I blurt. “It was good, but . . .” My words trail off. Why is this so hard?

“But what?” he presses.

“But nothing.” I lift my shoulders in a shrug that feels brittle. “It was one night. That’s all. No big deal.”

His expression falters. “Seriously? That’s it? That’s all you have to say to me?”

“Yep.” I meet his eyes, but it costs me. “Look. You don’t owe me anything. And I don’t owe you anything. We’re good.”